176 Cycle Touring Thailand to Vietnam via Cambodia

 THE RIDE TO VIETNAM

30 May - 11 August 2025
47 Days – 2,844 km

PHOTOS

 

THAILAND

Pattaya – Cambodian border

30 May – 5 June 2025

379 Km – 6 Days

 

30 May - Jomtien – Rayong – 70 km

I was determined to leave, so I had a cup of coffee, loaded the panniers on the bike and locked the door. I so seldom lock the door that I had to search for the key.

I was on the road for less than one kilometre before it started raining, and it continued to drizzle for the remainder of the day. Once, it rained so hard that I had to pull off the road at a bus shelter to wait out the worst of it. I don’t mind cycling in the rain; sometimes it can be quite pleasant, especially when it isn’t cold and doesn’t rain too hard. I never donned my plastic raincoat, as it was too hot, and since I'm not made of sugar, I didn’t think I would melt. LOL.

I continued cycling until I reached Rayong, 70 kilometres down the drag. I biked straight to Rich Grant, which has air-conditioned rooms for THB300, and the place features a washing machine and water filter. It is such a bargain that I never cycle past Rayong without staying. Since I could wheel the bike right into the room and there was a night market nearby, I decided not to continue.

 

31 May - Rayong – Klaeng – 65 km

I must have slept like a log, because I only woke at 8 o’clock! I had initially thought it was far earlier, but the bright morning light streaming through the window told a different story. Since the rain had taken a break, I figured I should seize the day before the clouds rolled back in.

As I set out, I couldn’t help but admire the stunning coastal scenery. I followed the winding road past the enchanting Ban Phe botanical garden. It was such a picturesque route! However, instead of sticking to the usual coastal path, I veered off toward Klaeng to explore this seldom visited area.

My first stop was the Sunthon Phu Monument, a site steeped in history that revealed Klaeng's fascinating past, dating back to the Ayutthaya period. I learned that this city was once a bustling trading hub along the banks of the Prasae River. Biking down Sunthonwohan Road, I could almost hear the echoes of the past, the once-bustling streets had become a peaceful reflection of a time long past. The charming wooden shophouses, once full of life, now stood quiet yet still holding their unique charm, with a few vintage convenience stores tucked between them. I also spotted the old police station, an elegant two-story wooden structure, still standing proudly. I even fantasised about spending the night in one of these historic buildings, but alas, there were none.

Eventually, I made my way to a more contemporary spot, the Ampai Place. I had to shell out double what I paid the night before, but wow, the room was like a dance hall! Not that I needed all that space for a good night’s sleep. As it was still early, I trundled to the supermarket where I bought enough food to feed an army.

 

1 June – Klaeng – Chanthaburi – 68 km

Wow, can you believe it's June already? Time seems to be flying by in the blink of an eye! You’d think that cycling the best part of the day would have me drifting off to dreamland in no time, but there I was at 3 a.m., wide awake, glued to an episode of Cold Case Detectives. Eventually, exhaustion caught up with me, and I dozed off, only to wake up to a sunlit room well past 7 a.m. The beauty of my lifestyle? No rush, so I loaded my bike and set off through the stunning countryside toward Chanthaburi.

My morning started a bit blurry—literally! My first snaps were hazy because my camera lens was fogged up from the air conditioning. But as I cycled along, it cleared, and I stumbled upon ancient temples and other captivating sites —a testament to the area’s rich history. The rivers I crossed were overflowing after the rains, transforming the landscape into a vibrant canvas of luminous green fields. Honestly, there’s something magical about biking through this picturesque part of Thailand.

The warm spirit of the Thai people made the day all the more special. I was greeted with spontaneous gestures of kindness—bottles of water, ice cubes, and bananas were handed my way. It’s incredible how kind and generous people are when you are travelling by bike; the many waves and thumbs-ups from passing locals say it all.

I found myself stopping more frequently than usual, not just for the breathtaking views but because fatigue was kicking in, likely a consequence of my late-night antics. Eventually, I rolled into Chanthaburi and made a beeline for the Muangchan Hotel, where one can find a ground-floor room at a mere 350 THB. Sure, it only has a cold-water shower (and tiled walls), but who needs hot water when the outside temperature is 33 °C? I’d trade a hot shower any day for a ground-floor room with a window that can open.

 

2 June – Chanthaburi

Wow, what a wild night we had! The storm that rolled through was nothing short of epic. The thunder cracked and boomed so fiercely that it jolted me awake, and the flashes of lightning lit up the room like it was daytime. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it; the whole building seemed to shake! Fortunately, by morning, the tempest had calmed down. The sky was still a bit broody, but it was a lovely morning overall.

I had planned to visit the immigration office to secure my re-entry permit for Thailand. However, as luck would have it, when I arrived, the doors were locked tight! It turned out to be a public holiday—celebrating the Queen's birthday the following day! You just never know with these holidays, do you?

With my plans thwarted, I decided to embrace the day lazily. I treated myself to breakfast at a nearby vegan restaurant for just 30 THB —less than a dollar! What a steal! After that, I tackled some laundry and, feeling pretty productive, I strolled over to Robinson's Mall in search of a new water bottle. I have no idea what happened to mine—it's like it vanished into thin air! Before setting out on my ride a few days ago, I grabbed an old one from the cupboard. However, let me tell you, not all water bottles are created equal, and there's a good reason this one was tucked away at the back of the cupboard. Unfortunately, my search at the mall was in vain, and I had to make do with the shabby water bottle until I could track down a decent bike shop.

As the day unfolded, a thought began to tug at my mind—perhaps it was time to hop on a bus back to Jomtien. It would give me a chance to grab a new water bottle and finally leave that pesky deposit for the electricity bill, a task I regrettably neglected before my ride. The last thing I wanted was to return home to a dark, disconnected apartment! With tomorrow being another public holiday, securing a re-entry permit would be impossible, which made the idea even more appealing. I weighed my options and decided that a little detour might be a smart move after all.

 

3 July - Chanthaburi

Ah, what a surprisingly effortless adventure! The minivan—often called a minibus—is one of the most convenient ways to navigate Thailand. As we hopped off, I took a quick motorbike taxi ride back home, where everything was just as I’d left it, a small comfort in an ever-changing world.

First things first, I left some cash at the reception desk to cover my electricity bill, which was due later in the month. After that, hunger gnawed at my stomach, and I set off to the shops to grab a bite. On my way, I ran into Peet and Charmaine, and we couldn’t resist sharing a cold beer together; it was a lovely moment of camaraderie. After our catch-up, I returned home to dive into finishing the PDF of a blog post I’d left dangling for too long.

The next morning, the early sun barely peeked through my window as I locked up the condo and made my way to the immigration office. However, the line was dauntingly long, spilling out onto the road! Realising it was smarter to head to Chanthaburi for the re-entry permit—an area known for being quieter—I hopped back on a motorbike taxi to Decathlon for a new water bottle and then onto the minivan station.

Once we arrived in Chanthaburi, the sky was rumbling, but I pressed on towards the immigration office. True to form, it was surprisingly empty, and in no time, I had that all-important stamp in my passport. With that taken care of, I returned to my hotel to prepare for the journey ahead.

 

5 June – Chanthaburi - Trat 73 km

After a night filled with steady rain, the gentle drizzle coaxed me back to sleep, and it wasn’t until 11 a.m. that I finally biked out of Chanthaburi.

Determined to explore backroads, I tried to steer clear of the main traffic, but eventually, I had no choice but to follow the main road towards Trat. Luckily, the weather was heavenly, presenting a refreshing landscape for an easy-going ride.

Upon arriving in Trat, I found myself drawn towards the old part of town. There, I stumbled upon Mugda Guesthouse, a hidden gem with colourful bungalows and a restaurant with vegetarian options around the corner. The best part? I could wheel my bike right into my room! Honestly, can it get any better than this? I'm really living the dream in Thailand!

 

6 June – Trat, Thailand – Khemarak Phoumin, also Koh Kong, Cambodia - 103 km

A steady drizzle lingered in the morning, but that didn’t deter me as I packed my gear and set off from the laid-back town of Trat. The main road became my route of choice, as secondary roads are few and far between along this narrow strip of land leading to the border. With the Cardamom Mountains on one side and the Gulf of Thailand on the other, the route comes with a few hills.

Having cycled this route more times than I can count, I breezed past all the picturesque spots. Yet, despite my familiarity, those steep little inclines caught me off guard today; a reminder of how my body feels the effects of inactivity. I haven't done much cycling since I returned from Malaysia in February, and each pedal stroke felt a bit heavier, and a bit more laboured. It’s frustrating to realise that with age, it takes longer to regain my fitness and quicker to lose it. Perhaps it’s just a sign of the times—or maybe I'm just making excuses.

In any event, I made my way to the border, where the Cambodian officials charged me 1,500 THB for a visa that should have been 1,000 THB. I went back into their office, checked the price, and they refunded me 300 THB. It should have been 500 THB, but at least the 300 THB was better than nothing.

Crossing the border into Cambodia, the difference between Thailand and Cambodia was immediately apparent, not only in the direction of the roads, but also in their condition. Potholes abounded, and the dust generated by trucks billowed up like a thick fog, so dense that one could barely see the oncoming traffic. Dodging the treacherous puddles left by the recent rain, further exacerbated the chaotic situation. I flew down the hill and across the Kah Bpow River to the first town in Cambodia, where, after 103 kilometres, I came to a screeching halt in front of Rene’s Pasta Bar and Guesthouse. The guesthouse offers fan rooms for $11, which I was happy to pay for, as it provided a shower and a place to be horizontal.

Before long, I spotted the guy I’d chatted with at the border walking through the door. We picked up our conversation, sharing tales of our travels and discovering the fascinating paths that had led us both to this little corner of the world. It wasn’t long before another traveller joined us, turning our impromptu gathering into a delightful exchange of stories. Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, I was heading to the ATM to withdraw some local currency.

Navigating the currency exchange felt like a mini adventure in itself. The ATM spat out both Cambodian riel and USD, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the dual currency system. With the exchange rate hovering around 4000 riel to the dollar, understanding the pricing scheme was key. Smaller items were typically quoted in riel, while most larger transactions could be settled in the widely accepted greenback. Small change, however, always came back in riel—a quirk that added to the unique experience of Cambodia.

 

 

177 CAMBODIA

6 June – 25 June

245 Km - 19 Days

 

7 -10 June - Koh Kong – Phnom Penh - By Bus

I stayed put the following day, as I was on a mission to secure a Cambodian SIM card and needed time to ponder my next route. My day was mostly quiet, with only a trip to the local market for fresh fruit.

Ultimately, I decided to take a bus to Phnom Penh. The choice was largely motivated by my many previous (8) cycling trips along this route, which, while scenic in its own right, isn't the most captivating. So, I strolled over to the bus station to see if they could accommodate the bicycle.

The next morning, I cycled to the bus station in bucketing rain and, to my delight, the bus turned out to be modern, comfortable, and staffed by professional drivers—definitely not the rickety ride I had anticipated for just $3.50 on a 300-kilometre bus ride. Before I knew it, we rolled into Phnom Penh, and I hopped back on my bicycle to navigate Phnom Penh’s chaotic traffic to my hotel.

As soon as I checked in, I shifted my focus to applying for a Vietnamese visa. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the rules had changed—no more in-person applications, only online! Lesson learned: always double-check the requirements before you set out. I quickly completed the online application, knowing that it was Sunday and responses would likely take a few days.

I tossed a few pieces of clothing into soapy water and then set out to explore the lively riverfront scene. As evening fell, the riverfront transformed into a bustling market, overflowing with vibrant stalls and exotic aromas. Despite the countless food vendors, I couldn’t find a single vegetarian dish. Undeterred, I treated myself to an ice-cold Cambodian beer and joined the locals perched on the wall, taking in the view of the confluence of the Tonle Sap and Mekong Rivers. The atmosphere was friendly, and conversations flowed easily.

The next day was rather uneventful, as I lingered in my hotel room longer than I had planned. By the time I finally ventured out, the clouds had cleared, and the heat was sweltering. I didn’t go far before surrendering to the comfort of my hotel once more. Later that evening, I caught up with Mat, a friend who lives in Phnom Penh. As is our tradition, we met at our favourite Ethiopian restaurant for a delicious meal and lots of jabbering.

The next morning, I woke up energised and ready for the day, but somehow I couldn’t find the motivation to leave. When I finally made my way downstairs for breakfast—a lovely perk included in my $15 room rate—I was pleasantly surprised to see a menu laid out before me. I had a delightful selection of egg combinations, fresh bread, fruit, and steaming coffee or tea to choose from. It was the perfect way to start a new day in this vibrant city!

 

11 June – Phnom Penh – Takeo – 86 km

I finally packed my panniers and set out on my trip southward. The chaotic pulse of Phnom Penh’s traffic was inescapable, no matter how hard I tried to navigate its labyrinthine streets. I wound my way through residential neighbourhoods, dodging motorbikes and tuk-tuks, and at times passed through bustling market areas. My presence drew curious glances and wide-eyed stares from traders, who paused their haggling to take in the sight of a cyclist in their midst.

As I pressed on, the urban chaos gradually gave way to the tranquil embrace of rural roads. Smaller villages came into view, each street lined with vendors selling an array of local delights: petrol in repurposed soda bottles, steamed duck eggs, and mouth-watering pork rice buns that filled the air with rich, savoury aromas. One stall caught my attention with a curious offering—fermented vegetables and, if I wasn’t mistaken, ant larvae. A reminder of the endless adventures found in Cambodian cuisine. I also thought it interesting that the meat vendors were all Muslim women, adding yet another layer to the vibrant tapestry of village life.

The weather was blustery, overcast, and a light drizzle fell intermittently. Depending on the direction of the wind, some stretches felt like I was gliding effortlessly, while others demanded every ounce of effort to keep my wheels turning. Despite the challenges, I found a rhythm and enjoyed the ride, arriving in Takeo with plenty of daylight to spare.

Takeo province, often dubbed the cradle of Cambodian civilisation, holds whispers of its storied past, although much of it has faded away. I had explored some ancient ruins during previous visits, but I still thought it was a good idea to spend the night in this easy-going town, as I had plenty of time to kill before crossing the border into Vietnam.

 

12 June – Takeo – Kampot – 86 km

What an incredibly slow and exhausting day it turned out to be! The wind howled like a relentless beast, while the rain drove me to seek shelter more times than I could count. I pushed through the gusty winds on a slight uphill stretch; although the distance was relatively short, the ride felt like an epic battle. Due to the conditions, I stayed on the paved road and didn’t follow secondary roads, which is not my usual practice.

By the time I reached Kampot, it felt like the day had aged me a decade. Maybe it was the hunger gnawing at my stomach as I hadn’t eaten a single bite all day. Yet, I considered myself fortunate, as my first encounter with rain happened about 25 kilometres in, right beside a cosy little coffee shop. There, I treated myself to a refreshing bubble tea and took refuge for nearly an hour, watching the world outside transform into a watercolour dream.

The second storm hit while I was at an abandoned shelter, where I hunkered down to escape the worst of the downpour. The rain pounded the roof, and I could only hope it wouldn't last long. When the clouds burst open a third time, I was so close to Kampot that I could practically taste it, so I decided to keep going instead of waiting for the weather to clear up.

Once I finally arrived in Kampot, I made a beeline for Good Morning Kampot, a charming guesthouse and restaurant right by the river. The promise of good food and welcoming staff was just what I needed after such a gruelling day.

 

Kampot

The following day, I checked my email and saw that my Vietnamese visa was granted. However, it is date-specific—since I mentioned I would be entering on the 20th, I can only enter on that date. Unlike other visas, which typically allow a 30-day stay valid for three or six months, this one is more restrictive and meant I had 6 days to kill.

I did my laundry and took walks along the lovely riverfront, which was ablaze with colour after sunset. I also had my bike washed and oiled at the shop around the corner and visited the Kampot market. The stalls were packed into a small area, selling a wide range of items, from meat and fish to food, clothing, and everyday essentials like brooms and clay stoves.

When the skies finally cleared on the third day, I couldn’t wait to jump into a tuk-tuk and explore the captivating nearby caves. My first stop was Phnom Kbai Romeas, a treasure trove of history that dates back to the Neolithic period (5000–3000 BC). As I wandered through the cave, I stumbled upon fascinating brick fragments, remnants of an ancient temple that once served as a sacred site for spiritual worship—a tradition that still thrives today.

The following day led me to the enchanting Boko National Park, where I spent hours surrounded by the lush landscapes and rich biodiversity. It was an adventure I’ll never forget, especially when I discovered the stunning Church of Mount Bokor. This exquisite relic from Cambodia’s colonial past sits majestically atop Bokor Mountain, shrouded in mist and mystery. Construction began in 1919 to cater to the French colonial elite who used it as a serene hill station retreat. However, its history darkened during the tumultuous 20th century, when the Khmer Rouge occupied the church, turning it into a barracks. A chilling reminder of its past, the church was also a witness to fierce battles between Khmer Rouge forces and the Vietnamese army in the 1980s.

Not far from there, I found the equally captivating Wat Sampov Pram, a Buddhist temple draped in legend and historical significance. The name translates to “Pagoda of the Five Boats,” inspired by five stone formations nearby that curiously resemble boats. Local folklore tells of a mighty prince who, determined to prove his love for a princess, sailed these enchanted boats to the mountaintop. Upon witnessing his unwavering dedication, the gods transformed the boats into stone, symbolising eternal love and sacrifice.

Built in the 1920s during the reign of King Monivong, the temple boasts a charming pagoda and a shrine, offering breath-taking views over the shimmering Gulf of Thailand from its cliffside location.

As the days passed, I found great joy in savouring the local cuisine, fuelling my adventures with countless cups of strong Cambodian coffee. I even tried salt coffee and, to my surprise, discovered I might just be a real fan!

 

18 June – Kampot – Kep – 30 km

After soaking up everything Kampot had to offer, I decided it was time for a change of scenery—a mere 30 kilometres away was Kep, a charming seaside town known for its fresh seafood, especially the blue swimmer crab. This quaint spot also serves as the gateway to the shores of Rabbit Island.

Upon my arrival in Kep, I found a gem of a place to stay—Jungle House. Nestled at the base of Kep Mountain, it truly feels like a hidden paradise in the jungle. The atmosphere was inviting, and I quickly made myself at home. Just a short stroll away, I discovered the beach lined with bustling seafood eateries, not that I could ever eat seafood. I thus made my way to the small grocery store for cup noodles.

The map indicated a hiking trail, and I was eager to break out of my routine for a day. With my trusty trail shoes laced up and daypack slung over my shoulder, I set off on the hiking trail around the idyllic Kep Mountain. As I began my hike, I felt a tinge of disappointment—this wasn't the rugged path I had envisioned; it was paved. However, the lush beauty of the surrounding woods quickly made up for it.

To my surprise, the trail turned out to be much shorter than I had anticipated. A small part of me was relieved, as I could feel a pesky chest infection creeping in, making each breath a bit more laboured than usual. With the hike cut short, I decided to head to the local pharmacy, hoping for a quick fix to halt this unwelcome illness in its tracks.

 

20 June - Kep

The next morning, I woke up feeling no better; in fact, it seemed as though my condition was mocking my efforts. The medication I had taken felt like little more than candy, providing no relief at all. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep due to a relentless fever raging at 39°C. Realising I needed help, I made my way to the local hospital. There, I was met with compassionate care and an assortment of medications—some were to reduce the fever, while others targeted the laryngitis, cough, and throat infection that had taken hold of me. I also learned that my condition was a new strain of COVID.

With a bag full of hope in the form of pills, I returned to Jungle House, where I surrendered to the comforts of my bed. I hoped that I’d be healthy soon and ready for my ride in Vietnam. I stayed in the next two days. Although I started feeling better, my voice worsened despite the medication for the bacterial infection, the antibiotic, and the Bromhexine prescribed at the hospital.

On the 24th, I finished the antibiotics and miraculously felt normal again: no fever or sore throat, and my voice returned. Phew! I thought it would never happen.

 

25 June – Kep, Cambodia – Ha Tien, Vietnam- 43 km

Though my energy was running low as my appetite had all but deserted me, I couldn't help but feel grateful to the warm-hearted folks at Jungle House as I hopped on my bike and pedalled toward the Vietnam border. The crossing was old hat for me—after more than 200 crossings in the past 18 years, I could probably do it in my sleep!

As soon as I stepped onto Vietnamese soil, I made a beeline for the nearest shop to snag a SIM card. With that essential mission accomplished, I continued on my way to Ha Tien, where good food and a bed awaited. Hai Phuong Hotel, right in the heart of the town, caught my eye with its spacious rooms and inviting balcony—all for just $11! A steal, really.

Once settled in, I headed to the ATM, withdrawing 2,000,000 dong at the mind-boggling exchange rate of 26,000 dong to 1 US dollar—it felt surreal to withdraw the equivalent of $76 in Vietnamese currency. My lunch was a delicious affair, costing me only about $1.70, which included a bottle of water, cup-noodles, and a packet of instant noodles.

Ha Tien’s history reads like an epic tale of resilience. Once a Cambodian province, the town faced turmoil as it was attacked by Thai forces back in 1708. The then-governor, Mac Cuu, sought help from Vietnam, and with their assistance, he carved out a fiefdom. But this wasn’t the culmination of their struggles. Over the years, Ha Tien endured invasions and turmoil, facing the agony of the American War and the dark shadow of the Khmer Rouge, who inflicted unspeakable horrors upon the locals.

Yet today, Ha Tien wears the crown of tranquillity. Its scenic riverside, bustling day market, and vibrant night market, create an atmosphere that pulsates with life. It’s hard to believe this charming town has a past so tumultuous.

 

 

VIETNAM

25 June – 10 August 2025

2 220 Km – 46 Days

 

26 – 27 June - Ha Tien - Chau Doc – 91 km

What an extraordinary day it has been! I followed a winding canal for nearly 90 kilometres, immersing myself in the breath-taking, watery landscape of the Mekong Delta. This enchanting region marks the point where the mighty Mekong River flows into the South China Sea, concluding its incredible 4,350-kilometre journey from the heights of Tibet, through the heart of Myanmar, Laos, and Cambodia. The scenery is a vibrant tapestry of lush greens, predominantly fields of rice swaying in the gentle breeze.

As I meandered through this rural paradise, memories of the American War surfaced, reminding me of the sombre history etched into this land. Even more haunting are the remnants of the atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge. Yet, amid this complexity, I was greeted with nothing but warm smiles and cheerful hellos from the locals. I took a delightful break to savour a crispy baguette and later enjoyed refreshing coconut juice, which sparked laughter and playful comments from passers-by. It seems that no matter where you go in the world, the reaction to my story about being from South Africa is often the same: “But you are white!” Many seem unaware that around 7% of South Africa’s population is of Caucasian descent.

Upon reaching Chau Doc, beautifully nestled alongside the Bassac River, spotting accommodation was a breeze given the town’s popularity as a river crossing between Vietnam and Cambodia. This vibrant town is also home to Tuc Dup Hill, a place that carries the weight of history, earning the nickname Two Million Dollar Hill due to the costly American bombing campaign in 1963. The stories that linger here are as rich as the land itself!

I spent the following day in Chau Doc to visit the floating village. The rest of my time was spent meandering along the river and visiting the local market.

 

28 June – Chau Doc – Cao Lanh – 80 km

I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and blessing as I spent my day wandering along the winding secondary roads of the delta. The landscape unfolded before me with lush greenery and shimmering waterways. My path meandered through quaint, one-lane communities, where the locals appeared genuinely surprised to see a foreigner cycling through their village. It was a stark contrast to the bustling cities; even the dogs lounged lazily in the shade, choosing to watch my passage rather than giving chase.

Every water stop turned into a small celebration, drawing families out of their homes to welcome me with warm smiles and curious looks. The children, with their wide-eyed innocence, eagerly approached, their voices a chorus of excitement as they asked my name and where I was from. I stumbled over the pronunciation of "Nam Phi," not entirely sure if the sounds escaped my lips correctly. Their puzzled expressions hinted that they might not even know where that was on a map.

I came across several river crossings and had to take a ferry twice. As the day wore on, dark clouds rolled in, casting a shadow over the landscape. Just when I thought I might escape the rain, it poured down, drenching me before I could cover myself or find shelter. Fortunately, I was less than 10 kilometres from my destination, so I pressed on through the deluge. Arriving at my final stop, I was thoroughly soaked but was welcomed in by the kind hotel staff.

 

29 June - Cao Lanh – Cai Be - 71 km

I’m confident that the day’s ride covered no more than 50 kilometres, but I was resolute in avoiding the chaotic main road—traffic mayhem is the last thing I need in my life. So, I set off through the picturesque countryside, where everything was going splendidly until the path just vanished, leaving me stranded in a muddy clay pit. Ugh!

Despite the setbacks, the day transformed into a delightful adventure as I pedalled past charming rural communities. Each home had something unique for sale: ripe bananas, the ever-popular Vietnamese coffee, and vibrant home-grown flowers. These were genuine rural dwellings, often with nothing more than a simple curtain to separate residents from the road.

Then, out of nowhere, a fierce wind whipped up, sending unsecured items flying through the air like a scene from a disaster movie. Corrugated iron sheets soared like magic carpets, and I narrowly dodged a wayward tree branch! I veered onto an even smaller road that seemed a bit more sheltered. Thankfully, the storm didn't cause too much trouble; the drizzle that followed was barely more than a few sprinkles.

Though I arrived early in Cai Be, the day ended without much fanfare. The town is famed for its floating market, but perhaps it's only a morning attraction because I saw absolutely nothing of the sort.

 

30 June – Cai Be - My Tho – 41 km

Wow, I barely rolled out of Cai Be before I found myself in My Tho, often dubbed the gateway to the Mekong Delta and a hotspot for day trips from Saigon. The town serves as a launchpad for numerous boat tours into the delta. The price for a solo trip was a bit steep, and I felt like I had already experienced much of what the delta has to offer.

As I’m nearing the end of the Mekong Delta route, it was time to unfurl the map and strategise how to dodge the dreaded Saigon traffic. With a bit of luck, I might be able to catch a ferry to Vung Tau, but whether that would happen, I would have to wait until the next day to find out.

 

1 July – My Tho - Vàm Láng - 55 km

A short, easy ride took me to Vam Lang, from where I hoped to catch a ferry to Vung Tau, but even the shortest ride makes for interesting travel. After about 20 kilometres, I stopped for my usual fare: a baguette and egg, accompanied by coconut juice. Most of these places offer hammocks and tiny plastic kindergarten chairs.

As I biked through Vietnam, the women I meet have made it clear that covering up is key, especially when it comes to my arms. They point to the sun, then to my skin, tugging at the sleeves of their long shirts. It’s a subtle lesson in local culture, reflecting a deep-seated belief that skin colour carries a weight of social meaning.

Here, dark skin is often associated with hardworking individuals toiling in the fields, symbolising rural life and its hardships. In contrast, the lighter-skinned folks are seen as those who enjoy a comfortable, urban existence, sheltered away from the sun's blazing rays.

And I understand that it’s more than just a piece of clothing; it’s a nod to the societal nuances that shape perceptions of class and identity in this vibrant country.

On arriving in Vam Lang I cycled to the harbour, but it was a chaotic madhouse of boats and seafood. I realised I wasn’t going to get any info there and instead I cycled to a hotel I spotted coming in. The lady indicated that there is indeed a boat to Vung Tau, but it leaves from the opposite side of the river—all thanks to a translation app. If I understood correctly, the boat departs at 9 a.m. I guessed I would have to wait and see if that was the case.

 

2 July - Vam Lang – Vung Tau – By boat

After a bit of an adventure, I finally spotted a boat, though I was a little uncertain if it was actually headed to Vũng Tàu. The language barrier made things tricky, and all I could do was wait and see. To my surprise, the boat wasn’t a sleek ferry but rather a rustic fishing vessel, and to board it, one had to navigate a nerve-wracking, narrow gangplank. Luckily, the staff were super helpful and assisted me with hoisting my bicycle onto the boat.

Once on board, I was ushered into the boat where we crawled onto the wooden deck. I'm not exaggerating if I say crawl, as that was what we had to do. Once inside, we could only sit or lie down on the wooden floor. It was a relief to see I wasn’t the only one making this trip, but the locals all had eyes on me, and not a single word of English was exchanged—indeed, an experience! LOL. The toilet turned out to be an even more curious affair. Behind a curtain were two planks to stand on while squatting.

Three hours later, and with a sore behind, we rolled into Vũng Tàu, a lovely seaside retreat. While the area may not be packed with attractions, I checked into a hotel and was eager to set out and soak in the laid-back charm of the place. The promise of exploration awaited, and I couldn’t wait to see what hidden gems the town had to offer!

 

3 July – Vung Tau - Phò Trì – 91 km

It took forever to get underway as I first went in search of an ATM. Getting out of Vung Tau was made easy by following a separate motorbike and bicycle lane for most of the way, which I was grateful for, as traffic in Vietnam is similar to that in Egypt and Syria.

Vehicles drive on what is known as the Egyptian brake, meaning driving is done by constantly honking, which could mean, 'I'm behind you,' 'I'm overtaking,' 'I'm turning off,' 'I'm speeding,' or simply, 'Get out of my way.'  That said, I always think the traffic is hectic when I don’t understand the rules. Most countries follow international traffic rules, with slight variations here and there. Some allow a free left or right turn, depending on which side of the road they drive on, while others let certain rules slide while placing greater emphasis on others. Usually, these variations are relatively easy to figure out; however, there appear to be no clear rules in Vietnam. The only rule is to look ahead and refrain from colliding with anything.

In any event, it was after 11 o’clock before I crossed the bridge onto, let’s call it, the mainland. I thought I could follow the coast, but somehow that didn’t materialise, and sometime later, after some zig-zagging, I found myself on a coastal road littered with what appeared to be high-end hotels. These hotels must be all-inclusive affairs catering to tour groups as there is no infrastructure surrounding them. Later in the day, it seemed that the Vietnamese government was trying to construct a Vietnamese Cancun.

 

4 July - Phò Trì - Mui Ne – 100 km

As I pedalled along the coast, memories flooded back from my first trip around the globe in 2009. I dug out my old notes and found a description that made me smile: “A short cycle along the coast took us to the seaside settlement of Mui Ne. So tiny was it that, at first, we overshot the turnoff. After retracing our steps, an abode right at the beach was uncovered. Sadly, my first swim in the South China Sea wasn’t as warm as I had hoped.” Oh, how time has transformed Mui Ne! What was once a quaint fishing village has blossomed into a vibrant, modern tourist hotspot, with guesthouses and homestays lining nearly every street.

Today’s ride, while not breath-taking, had its own charm. The terrain featured gentle hills and just a hint of a headwind, but it remained a pleasant ride. I wound through tiny settlements, where the hustle and bustle spilt onto the road. The scene was a colourful chaos—vendors hawking everything from fresh fish to bright plastic buckets, juicy meats, and fragrant rice. Navigating this lively marketplace required some skill, especially with motorbikes and trucks zipping by in every direction! But on stretches where the new road had been completed, it was smooth sailing, thanks to dedicated bike and motorbike lanes.

I made a detour into Phan Thiet, the fish sauce capital of Vietnam, where colourful boats fill the harbour. It is said that the region's climate and abundant anchovies contribute to the unique flavour and quality of its fish sauce.

I learned that in production, selecting the right fish is crucial, with anchovies being preferred for their small size and high oil content. Salt preserves the sauce, enhances flavour, and aids fermentation by inhibiting harmful bacteria.

The fish and salt mixture undergoes initial sun fermentation, promoting the growth of beneficial bacteria. It’s then transferred to large wooden barrels for ageing, which can last from a few months to years, intensifying the flavours and creating a rich umami taste. Finally, the sauce is extracted, filtered, and bottled, ready for kitchens worldwide. Who knew it was such a process!

When I finally rolled into Mui Ne, it was still early, and I discovered a charming room just a stone’s throw from the beach. I had planned to relax for two nights, but alas, being the weekend, the next night was fully booked. I thought I might have to set out again the next morning in search of another room, but for the moment, the sound of the waves lapping at the shore called to me.

 

6 July - Mui Ne - Ga Ca – 102 km

I awoke to the soothing rhythm of waves crashing against the shore, and was reluctant to leave the comfort of my room. Eventually, I clambered out of bed, loaded up my bike, and pedalled away from picturesque Mui Ne. The coastal road was alive with the hustle and bustle of morning traffic, a chaotic dance of motorbikes zigzagging between lanes.

Soon, I veered off onto what seemed like a serene coastal path, only to find myself jostling along a dirt road that gradually surrendered to sand. With each turn of the pedals, the path beneath me turned softer, and I worried that I’d have to turn back. But fate smiled upon me: after what felt like an eternity, I finally emerged on the main road. Just as I thought my adventure would stabilise, a small coastal path caught my eye, and I couldn’t resist the urge to explore once more. This time, luck was on my side; the road was paved, though still bumpy, and the charming villages that dotted the landscape made every jolt worth it.

The southern stretches of Vietnam revealed a stark contrast to the north, showcasing an almost surreal mixture of barren beauty: expansive sand dunes and rugged rocky outcrops. The terrain was undulating, while majestic mountains loomed ahead, but the road cleverly snaked around them, hugging the windswept coast.

After 100 kilometres, I stumbled upon a hotel directly on the beach, and realised I hadn’t eaten all day. Unfortunately, the power was out, and just as I began to lose hope, the lights flickered back to life around 7 p.m. My stomach growled in agreement, but I found the adjacent restaurant primarily offered meat and fish, neither of which appealed to me. So, I retreated to my room to enjoy a pack of instant noodles, my humble yet comforting dinner for the night.

I knew my ride the next day would be short; instant noodles just didn’t pack the energy I needed. But I would be sure to keep my eyes peeled for a roadside restaurant.

 

7 July – Ga Ca – Cam Nghia – 95 km

As the first rays of sunlight pierced through my window, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude—the wild wind from the previous night had calmed, revealing a breath-taking ocean view that felt like a scene from a postcard. Outside, holidaymakers were already up and about, dressed in vibrant outfits, eagerly capturing the beauty of their surroundings through their camera lenses.

I ventured out into what could only be described as a classic Vietnamese morning. The air was thick with the smell of burning trash, mingling with the aroma of freshly prepared breakfast at the nearby Banh Mi and Pho stalls. My stomach grumbled—after a day without proper nourishment—and I stopped at a nearby roadside stand for my daily baguette with egg. Tiny, colourful plastic tables and chairs lined the street, where chickens pecked at the dirt and curious dogs watched with longing eyes.

Most of the morning, I stuck to the main road, a route that seemed endless with no diversions in sight. It was clear that this area was notoriously windy; towering wind turbines dotted the landscape. A road sign caught my eye, announcing that 1,400 kilometres remained to Hanoi. I doubted that I would follow this monotonous stretch north, so it may be much further for me. I doubted I would make it, especially with only 12 days left on my visa. I would eventually need to figure out my next steps—crossing the border or maybe attempting to extend my stay in Da Nang.

As I pedalled north, the scenery transformed into a picturesque representation of Vietnam: lush rice fields stretched out before me, framed by distant mountains. Cheerful encounters with the locals reminded me why I embraced cycle touring in the first place. The midday sun beat down fiercely, forcing me to stop frequently for refreshing bottles of “nuoc” (water). At one of these stops, the kind owner offered me an ice lolly, on the house—just what I needed to cool off! I must have looked a bit worn out under the blazing sun.

Then, to my delight, I stumbled upon the Tháp Hòa Lai, an ancient Champa temple complex featuring two beautiful towers. I couldn’t help but feel awed by their historic significance and architectural beauty.

While Vietnam’s rich ancestry can be traced back to southern China, I learned that the Kinh Vietnamese—the largest ethnic group—descended from a blend of indigenous groups and migrants from southern China, particularly the Austroasiatic peoples. Over thousands of years, these migrations led to a diverse culture, with some roots extending back to early rice farmers from southern China.

The Cham people, who have inhabited Vietnam since at least the second century CE, are believed to have links to the ancient Sa Huỳnh culture, dating back to around 1000 BCE. They established the Kingdom of Champa in present-day Huế, and were descendants of Austronesian peoples from Taiwan and Borneo. At one point, they controlled significant trade routes connecting China, India, Indonesia, and Persia, and traded in spices and silk. However, their kingdom eventually fell to the Khmer Empire and later to Vietnam, with the last principality annexed in 1832.

Continuing my ride, I soon encountered the turn-off to Nha Trang, still 40 kilometres away. With the clock ticking past 3 p.m., I decided to treat myself to a stay at the charming Magnolia Hotel, priced at 300,000 dong per night. My room was a haven—clean, spacious, and equipped with a decent bathroom and air conditioning. Add an elevator, and it felt like pure luxury! As I settled in, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the luxury of a desk and chair, hence the long journal entry today.

 

8 July - Cam Nghia – Nha Trang – 52 km

I took my time making my way to Nha Trang, savouring the ride because it was just a stone's throw away. This time, I was determined to find a Bahn Mi stand, which are practically sprinkled throughout Vietnam.

Just outside Cam Nghia, I came upon a Cao Dai temple. It’s a sacred building of a religion that has been around since 1926 and gained followers primarily in South Vietnam. Nowadays, you can even find Cao Dai temples in other countries.

What I like about it is that Cao Dai is a syncretic religion that combines elements of Christianity, Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Taoism, Zoroastrianism, and Confucianism.

As I moved through the picturesque countryside, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of people skilfully farming on the steepest mountainsides. It’s incredible how they manage it.

The heat was relentless, and I was relieved to finally arrive in Nha Trang—only to be taken aback by its size and hustle. I’d grown a little too accustomed to quieter spots and found myself wishing for fewer cars on the road. It hit me that Nha Trang is not just any coastal town; it’s a sprawling resort city, famous for its stunning beaches, diving spots, and enticing offshore islands. The main beach stretches long and invitingly along Tran Phu Street, flanked by a lively promenade, hotels, and seafood restaurants. It’s no surprise that the city welcomed a staggering nine million visitors last year, a number that’s sure to rise in 2025. I hadn’t encountered so many tourists in quite some time!

But, just as frustration started to bubble up, I stumbled upon a hidden gem—a bargain room just 250 meters from the beach! The Queen Hotel was a steal at $11.50, complete with a generous balcony, air conditioning, and even a bar fridge. I couldn't resist booking two nights.

Before I could even unpack my panniers, I dashed off to a nearby vegetarian restaurant that boasted an impressive menu. I must admit, I was feeling a bit shaky from low blood sugar, but after a satisfying meal, I felt rejuvenated.

As sunset approached, I strolled to the beach, and my eyes widened at the sea of tourists—surprisingly, many of them were Vietnamese! It became clear that Nha Trang also draws in travellers from Russia, China, and Korea, all of whom are just a hop away. It's no mystery why they flock here—Vietnam offers incredible experiences without breaking the bank.

 

9 July - Nha Trang

You might think I took the chance to sleep in, but that was definitely not on my agenda. By the crack of dawn, I found myself on a quest for the perfect cup of Vietnamese coffee and one of those legendary baguettes that everyone raves about. Just imagining the crispy crust and savoury filling was enough to get me moving!

As I strolled along the promenade, I was captivated by the beautifully shaded gardens lining the path. Eventually, I arrived at the Pink Lotus, a remarkable monument also known as the Tram Huong Tower. The story goes that it was inspired by the sandalwood flower, or more precisely, agarwood, which is highly prized in Vietnamese culture for its fragrance and spiritual significance.

Here’s the twist: while the original concept was to honour agarwood, the final design took on a more lotus-like appearance, which resonated deeply with the public. The lotus is a powerful symbol in Vietnam, representing purity, resilience, and enlightenment. So, even though the monument was meant to evoke sandalwood, its petal-shaped architecture and pink hue led many to associate it with a lotus flower. Today it's painted white.

I navigated the chaotic traffic to the Mountain Church of Nha Trang, officially known as Christ the King Cathedral. Perched majestically atop a rocky outcrop in the heart of the city, this stunning structure is a captivating blend of history, architecture, and spiritual heritage. Built under the watchful eye of French priest Louis Vallet, construction began back on September 3, 1928, and wrapped up in May 1933. Its French Gothic style evokes the grandeur of ancient Roman castles, making it not just a church, but a monument to Nha Trang’s colonial past.

One of the most astonishing aspects of European history is that they built churches wherever they went, despite their actions often being far from Christian. In regions such as the Americas, Africa, Asia, and Australia, they engaged in practices like raping, killing, stealing land and resources, imposing taxes that drove people from their homes, and even placing individuals in concentration camps. Despite all this, they still constructed grand cathedrals.

A short stroll further brought me to the Long Son Pagoda. Just getting there felt like an adventure in itself! Nestled at the foot of Trai Thuy Hill, it is the city’s largest pagoda and a profound symbol of Vietnamese Buddhism. Founded in 1886, its purpose was initially to provide a retreat for monks seeking enlightenment. The pagoda’s significance deepened during the Vietnam War when it emerged as a centre for peace and spiritual resilience.

Over the years, Long Son Pagoda has seen its share of renovations, especially between 1940 and 1971, to restore the damage inflicted by war and natural disasters. Its architecture is a stunning representation of Eastern Asian design, featuring a magnificent central hall that houses a 700kg bronze Buddha statue. Don’t miss the reclining Buddha statue, symbolising the Buddha’s tranquil entry into Nirvana. On top of the hill is the iconic White Buddha Statue, built between 1964 and 1965. Standing 24 meters tall and seated atop the mountain, it’s one of Vietnam’s most prominent and most revered figures.

Long Son Pagoda is more than just a place to visit; it’s a vibrant centre for meditation, worship, and the celebration of Buddhist festivals like Vesak, making it a truly enriching experience. With each step I took, my appreciation for the culture and history woven into the fabric of this beautiful city deepened.

The sweltering heat and chaotic traffic in Nha Trang got the better of me, prompting a spontaneous decision to hail a motorbike taxi to the legendary Ponagar Temple. At just four kilometres away, I thought it wouldn't be too bad. But as we zipped through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic, a wave of uncertainty washed over me. I decided to close my eyes, grip the seat tightly, and embrace the wild ride—after all, what’s an adventure without a little thrill?

As we arrived, I was greeted by the breath-taking sight of the Po Nagar Cham Towers, also known as the Ponagar Temple. This stunning gem of Vietnam’s history stands proudly on a hill, overlooking the Cai River and city. Built between the 7th and 12th centuries by the Cham people—an extraordinary civilisation that once thrived in central and southern Vietnam—this temple is not just a structure; it’s a vivid tapestry of cultural heritage.

Walking among the ancient stones, I learned that the temple honours Yan Po Nagar, a revered goddess believed to have fostered life by creating the Earth and teaching the local people the arts of agriculture and craftsmanship. Her legacy endures, as she’s intertwined with Hindu goddesses such as Bhagavati, Durga, and Uma. In Vietnamese folklore, she is affectionately known as Thiên Y Thánh Mẫu—a goddess of compassion and wisdom.

The most remarkable thing about Vietnam is that, despite having pedestrian crossings, drivers often don’t respect them. To cross the street on foot, you need to walk across while maintaining a steady pace and navigating the constant flow of traffic. This approach defies all natural instincts.

 

11 July - Nha Trang - Tuy Hoa - 70 km

With the hills looming, I departed earlier than usual. The first section was a lovely ride with great views, but I knew I'd have to tackle the mountain sooner or later. The tunnel is only for motor vehicles, and I had to use the old scenic route.

 

This must have been my lucky day, as right where I had to turn off, I stopped to fill up my water bottles and started chatting with a man who offered me a ride through the tunnel. In no time at all, I had the bicycle loaded onto his truck, and within an hour, we cleared the mountains, and I was back on level ground. Just before Tuy Hoa, I was dropped off and could cycle the short section into Tuy Hoa.

 

12 July -Tuy Hoa - Quy Nhơn – 101 km

The heat hit me like a wall as soon as I rolled onto the road, the relentless sun blazing overhead, but I was determined to keep going. I chugged water, coconut water, and isotonic drinks, trying to stay hydrated as I faced the day ahead.

Initially, I took the backroads, winding through charming little villages. Each turn offered a glimpse of rural life but, soon enough, the narrow paths led me back to the main road, via a rickety bridge, where more hills loomed menacingly. Just when I thought I had conquered one climb, the next mountain emerged, taunting me. I huffed and puffed my way up, sweat pouring down my face, stopping at nearly every roadside vendor to gulp down cold drinks. At least the breath-taking views were a silver lining.

The villages I pedalled through were tranquil, as most locals retreated for a siesta, seeking refuge from the sweltering heat. Even motorbike riders took a breather, lounging at roadside eateries, seeking shade and refreshments.

Finally, I rolled into Quy Nhon, happy at the sight of the city. With fatigue settling in, I bypassed the beach and headed straight for the first hotel I spotted. To my delight, the room for 300,000 dong was far beyond my expectations—clean, comfortable, and a welcome respite after the long ride. Too exhausted to venture out in search of food, I lazily ordered a meal online, ready to indulge after a day of biking through Vietnam's vibrant landscapes.

 

14 July - Quy Nhơn – Tam Quan – 113 km

After an incredibly relaxing day lounging in the comfort of my air-conditioned room, I felt ready to tackle the heat and the road once more.

The gentle sound of the waves beckoned me as I set out on an easy ride along the stunning beach of Quy Nhơn. The path led me across the sprawling Thi Nai Marsh, where nature unveiled its beauty, before I eventually found myself on a quiet rural road. The coastal landscape was alive with the vibrant pulse of the fishing industry, an essential lifeline of Vietnam's economy, and I was amazed to witness the crystal-clear waters, despite a parade of boats.

The hills today were gentler than I had braced myself for, adorned with striking religious statues and solemn war memorials that echoed stories of the past. The heat was unrelenting, as I pedalled past lush rice fields and busy farming activities. I wished for the distant clouds to drift closer, but alas, they remained far off on the horizon. Yet, the hills offered a refreshing breeze and breath-taking ocean views, a reward that made each uphill slog worthwhile before I flew down the slopes.

As my shadow grew long, I found a roadside hotel that looked inviting enough to call it a day. I had my sights set on reaching Da Nang by the 16th; my visa was ticking down to its expiration on the 19th, and I needed to make arrangements to extend my stay. The plan? I would leave my trusty bike behind and return for it later, once I had sorted out a new visa.

 

15 July - Tam Quan – Roadside hotel – 101 km

As incredible as the ride was, the scorching heat made it difficult to fully enjoy. I wasn't alone in battling the sun; cyclists of all ages were out there, pedalling in the relentless heat. It’s fascinating to see elderly folks hustling through physical labour—yet, the minute I take a breather, I’m hit with the usual question, “How old are you?”

With temperatures soaring between 38 and 39 degrees Celsius (the app said it felt like 47!), I stopped frequently to hydrate, but it felt like I was cycling in an oven. I kept wishing for a cloud to roll in to offer some little relief, but my hopes were dashed. By 3 p.m., I spotted a roadside hotel and decided it was time to call it a day. Trust me, there’s no joy in cycling when the heat is that intense!

The room was only 250,000 dong—less than $10! Finding it fitted with icy cold air conditioning felt like hitting the jackpot. I stripped off my sweaty clothes and stood under the cold shower, savouring the cool water for what felt like an eternity. What a relief!.

 

16 June – Roadside Hotel - Da Nang - 120 km

I was up and out of the room before the clock struck eight, kicking off an early ride. The sun was only just up, but I knew the day would be scorching, and I had around 120 kilometres ahead of me to reach Da Nang. The main goal? A stop at the visa office to sort out my visa run trip to Laos. It’s certainly not the cheapest option, but the promise of wrapping it all up in just one day was too tempting to resist.

Fuelled by determination, I lowered my head and pedalled hard toward Da Nang. Just before I got there, I rolled into Hoi An, and let me tell you, it was a tempting detour. The town’s charming and picturesque streets almost convinced me to stay! But I shook off the thought, knowing the logistics would be a nightmare, and forged ahead, tackling the final stretch of hectic traffic into Da Nang.

Phew! The city’s chaos is something else! But fortune favoured me as I located the visa office without a hitch. Once the serious business was taken care of, I cycled into the heart of the city in search of a place to rest my weary head. To my delight, I discovered that hotel prices in Vietnam are incredibly budget-friendly! I secured a room for just $15, complete with a charming balcony, a quaint little kitchenette, and a stunning view of the river. I booked it for three nights since the visa run is on the 18th, and we wouldn’t be back until late. A good day all in all.

I passed by the My Lai massacre site, a location where the mass murder of unarmed civilians occurred in Sơn Mỹ village during the Vietnam War. It is estimated that at least 347 and possibly up to 504 civilians, nearly all women, children, and elderly men, were killed by U.S. Army soldiers. Some of the women were gang-raped, and their bodies mutilated. Additionally, some soldiers sexually assaulted and mutilated children as young as 12. This incident represents the largest massacre of civilians by U.S. forces in the 20th century that we are aware of.

The killing began while the troops were searching the village for soldiers and continued even after they realised that no soldiers seemed to be present. Villagers were gathered together, held in the open, and then murdered with automatic weapons, bayonets, and hand grenades. They then burned down homes and killed livestock.

In November 1969, two American soldiers disclosed the details of the massacre to the American public, prompting global outrage.

The following day was spent relaxing in the comfort of my airconditioned room which boasted a lovely view over the Han River. I was dead chuffed with my view and, as the room sported a balcony and a little kitchenette, it nearly felt like home.

 

18 July – Da Nang

Thanks to a mix of my own stupidity and the country's strict visa policies, I had only applied for a 30-day visa, which, in hindsight, felt like a rookie mistake. It’s hard to believe I thought I could cycle through the entire length of Vietnam in that short time! Hence, the need for a visa run. The journey from Da Nang was a marathon on wheels—a gruelling six-hour bus ride to the Laos border. Once we arrived, the process was straightforward: check out of Vietnam, step into Laos for what felt like a mere blink, and then step back into Vietnam, this time armed with a new 3-month visa. Phew!

The return trip to Da Nang was at a different pace altogether. The bus felt like a serene cocoon, transforming into a sleeping car as weary travellers succumbed to the fatigue of the day. I was lucky to sit beside Paul, a fellow explorer whose stories of distant lands and adventures kept me engaged. It’s incredible how, on a simple visa run bus, you meet such intriguing souls, each with their own unique tales of adventure, resilience, and dreams.

Upon our arrival back in Da Nang, a wave of relief washed over me. Instead of jumping into a taxi, I chose to walk the three kilometres back to my accommodation. I craved the liberating embrace of fresh air and the chance to stretch my legs after being nestled in a seat for so long. As I strolled through the twinkling city lights, I felt a wave of gratitude for the opportunity to live this life of travel – it’s the unpredictability of these twists and turns that make life an exciting adventure.

 

19 July – Da Nang

Another day was spent in Da Nang, where I found myself leisurely exploring its nooks and crannies. Today’s adventure led me across the bridge to the old citadel, a place that promised history but left me feeling a bit underwhelmed – it seemed to be fading into obscurity, neglected by time. Yet, amid the disappointment, I found myself booking a trip to see the famed Golden Bridge. I was unsure if it would live up to the hype, but I thought, “If I don’t take the leap, how will I ever know?” And just like that, I extended my stay in Da Nang by a day.

By evening, I made my way to the Dragon Bridge, an iconic symbol of the city that breathes fire at night like a majestic guardian. Thousands gathered along the riverfront, all eagerly anticipating the fiery spectacle.

 

20 July – Da Nang

This morning, I set out for the enchanting Ba Na Hills, drawn by the allure of the famed Golden Bridge. I have to admit, I was feeling a bit sceptical and I had my doubts about this excursion. But, as I made my way up the mountain, I found that just getting there was a thrill, thanks to a breath-taking cable car ride that offered panoramic views of the ocean and lush forests below, followed by an exhilarating funicular experience that heightened my anticipation.

Upon reaching the summit, the main attraction, the Golden Bridge, awaited. This stunning footbridge, cradled by two gigantic hands, is undeniably captivating. If it were a real bridge stretching across a river or ravine, I would have been completely mesmerised. However, it's important to note that this structure serves primarily as a tourist attraction—not a crossing for daily commuters. The area surrounding the bridge features ancient European castles that feel more like a Disneyland attraction than a Vietnamese setting.

For those who thrive on fantastical, theme-park-like environments, I’m sure this magical setup is a delight. But personally, it wasn't quite my style. Yet, I believe that everyone has their own tastes and preferences, and that’s precisely why I felt it was essential to experience it first-hand. Who knows? Maybe I would find a bit of magic after all!

 

21 July – Da Nang – Hue – 120 km

I can’t quite recall the exact time I set off, but I know it was pretty early and the traffic was already hectic. The first few kilometres flew by as I cruised along the stunning beachfront, leaving the bustling, westernised city of Da Nang behind.

Soon, I found myself at Hai Van Pass—a mountain road that promised breath-taking views. The climb wasn’t too steep, but it went on for what felt like an endless 10 kilometres. I wheezed up the winding path, stopping frequently to snap photos because every turn revealed a new, jaw-dropping vista.

The exhilarating rush of the downhill nearly took my breath away! It was a wild ride, and just as I thought the thrill would never fade, I found myself amidst lush rice fields, with grazing water buffalo dotting the landscape. I thought I could relax and enjoy the scenery, but I spotted the next ascent looming ahead. A tunnel was only for vehicles, and off-limits to cyclists, leaving me with no choice but to face the hill.

The road levelled out eventually, but the final stretch to Hue felt like a grind. As I rolled into the city, I briefly toyed with the idea of cycling all the way to the historic Imperial City. However, hunger and fatigue got the better of me, and I veered off to the first accommodation I stumbled upon. In hindsight, that choice wasn’t my best decision—the bed felt like sleeping on a slab of concrete!

Despite that, I was excited about visiting Hue as the city brims with history and culture. I planned to immerse myself in its rich heritage and explore its iconic sites the next day.

 

22 July – Hue

Today, I immersed myself in the rich history of Hue’s fortified Citadel and Imperial City, established by Emperor Gia Long in 1802 when Huế was the vibrant capital of Vietnam. As I wandered through its storied walls, I discovered that the Imperial City’s construction kicked off in 1804, drawing inspiration from Beijing’s Forbidden City, all while guided by the timeless principles of Confucianism and the ancient art of feng shui.

Perched on the banks of the enchanting Perfume River, the city benefits from the protective embrace of Ngu Binh Mountain, creating a landscape that radiates auspicious energy—water in front and mountains behind, a powerful symbol of prosperity and support. The ramparts and moats surrounding the city boast imposing walls up to 6.7 feet thick and extend over a remarkable 10 kilometres perimeter.

Yet, the beauty of this heritage site faced a tragic chapter during the U.S. war, with extensive damage that left only 10 major buildings standing from the original 160. However, the spirit of the Imperial City is resilient. In 1993, it was awarded UNESCO World Heritage Site status, sparking a renewed commitment to restoration and preservation. Today, it stands not just as a historical monument, but as a testament to the enduring legacy of culture and resilience, of the Vietnamese people.

 

23 July - Hue – Dong Ha – 75 km

Today’s ride was nothing short of a joy! The remnants of the typhoon that made landfall further north gifted me with a refreshing cloud cover that kept the heat at bay. Or, maybe it was the rest day that fuelled me with energy; either way, I hardly made any stops! My only pauses were to refill my water bottle about 10 kilometres outside Hue and then again around 20 kilometres from Dong Ha.

As I approached Dong Ha, I took a quick detour into town, hoping to find something interesting. Unfortunately, it was a bit of a bust—nothing caught my eye. So, with a quick U-turn, I headed back to the main road where a treasure trove of eateries and hotels awaited.

I popped into the first hotel I found and, to my delight, they quoted me a rate of 300,000 dong and welcomed me to bring my bicycle right into the room! I was so pleased with this arrangement that I didn’t even bother to look for another option.

It must have been my lucky day! The bed was incredibly comfy, there was a mobile phone store just across the street for topping up my internet, and a delightful street food vendor was right next door! Honestly, it doesn’t get much better than this.

Happy days indeed!

 

24 July – Dong Ha – Dong Hoi – 118 km

Soon after departing, I found myself enveloped in the enchanting landscape of Vietnam, where lush rice paddies painted a vivid green, only to be interrupted by the solemn presence of graves scattered throughout the countryside. It was a striking juxtaposition, a reminder of history woven seamlessly into daily life. I set my sights on revisiting the Vinh Moc tunnels, a site that had captivated me on my previous journey.

These tunnels, carved painstakingly during the American War, stand as monumental testaments to resilience and ingenuity. They were not merely tunnels; they were lifelines—safe havens for families and strategic strongholds in the heart of combat. As I roamed through the labyrinth of passages, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of history around me. Informative boards vividly recounted tales of how these tunnels were instrumental in outmanoeuvring the Americans, ultimately paving the way for the reunification of the Vietnamese people.

Spanning 1.7 kilometres with 13 discreet entrances, the tunnels descend through three levels, plunging to depths of 8–10 meters, 12–15 meters, and a remarkable 20–23 meters. Along their damp, earthen walls, small nooks served as makeshift living quarters, snugly fitting two to four individuals. I marvelled at the gathering hall, which could accommodate 50 to 60 people, a maternity ward, wells, toilets, hospital areas, and even a kitchen—all crafted under the ground, far away from the chaos above. It was hard to fathom the lives that once thrived in these dark confines, battling despair and uncertainty while forging their paths to survival.

Lost in thought and exploration, I realised I had lingered in the tunnels far longer than intended. The sun was already high in the sky, and Dong Hoi lay a breezy 80 kilometres away.

My route crossed the DMZ, now a peaceful place planted with rice and home to grazing buffalo. I rolled into Dong Hoi well past five o'clock, and rather than searching high and low for the perfect accommodation, I chose the first place I came across.

 

25 July - Dong Hoi

I lingered in bed, feeling the weariness in my legs from yesterday's ride. The allure of a hot, robust Vietnamese coffee and the enticing crunch of a bahn mi finally coaxed me out from under the covers. With breakfast fuelling my spirit, I set off to discover the charm of Dong Hoi, a city steeped in history and resilience.

As I strolled along the riverbank, I couldn’t shake the sombre echoes of the past that lingered in the air. Dong Hoi, once caught in the crossfire of the Vietnam War, was tragically positioned near the DMZ—the notorious Demilitarised Zone where much of the brutal fighting took place. On that fateful day, 11 February 1965, American B-52s unleashed their fury, reducing the city to rubble. All that stood in defiance of the devastation were remnants: a solitary water tower, fragments of the city gate, the shell of a Catholic Church, and a lone palm tree

As I sauntered the streets of Dong Hoi, I discovered the imposing remnants of the city wall and citadel. Constructed in 1631, it stood as a mighty sentinel between the northern Trinh forces and the southern Nguyen dynasty. This impressive structure was a key component of a larger fortification system designed to defend against invasions.

Originally built from earth, the wall underwent a remarkable transformation in 1824 under the reign of Emperor Minh Mang, who commissioned a rebuild using bricks and molasses mortar. Spanning approximately 17 kilometres, the wall rose to a height of three metres and boasted a sturdy base six metres wide. It was adorned with moats, watchtowers, and three grand gates—north, south, and east.

This formidable barrier was so effective that the Trinh army, despite launching numerous assaults—including a staggering attack involving 100,000 soldiers and 500 elephants—failed to breach it for decades.

 

26-27 July – Dong Hoi – Son Trach, Phong Nha National Park - 50 km

As I set off on my ride, I was greeted by a picturesque coastal road that twisted and turned before veering inland towards the magnificent Phong Nha National Park. The pedalling was easy, the scenery breath-taking, and before I knew it, I had arrived in the charming village of Son Trach— the bustling gateway to the park.

Here, the main road was lined with welcoming hotels, basic guesthouses, and enticing eateries, making it easy to find the perfect spot to unload my panniers and soak in the atmosphere, while also enjoying the fruit the kind-hearted locals shared along the way. Afterwards, I set my sights on the boat launching area, where colourful vessels were ready to whisk eager tourists away to the nearby Pong Nha Cave. Even though I had been here before, the allure of the boat ride and the magical caves pulled me in like a moth to a flame.

The boat motored up the river to the mouth of the cave, a hidden wonder and one of the world’s longest navigable water caves. This underground marvel stretches an impressive 7 kilometres, featuring soaring ceilings and narrow passageways.

We glided into the cave, the ambience shifting to something almost otherworldly. Though we only ventured a short distance inside, the experience was still enchanting. On our return trip, we were dropped off just a stone's throw away from the entrance, allowing us to walk back and soak in the natural beauty around us.

Stepping inside, the main chambers soared up to 50 meters high, enveloping me in a dramatic and awe-inspiring atmosphere that was both humbling and exhilarating. Today, the cave is enhanced by beautiful lighting, transforming it into a kaleidoscope of shadows and brilliance that dance along the walls, making the paddle deep into the earth even more magical.

 

28 July - Phong NHA, Sơn Trạch - Đồng Lê – 84 km

A charming rural road led me alongside the Son River. Still, a twinge of doubt occasionally punctuated the serenity as I feared my ride might come to an abrupt end amid the growing remoteness of the landscape. Just as I slowed down to study my map, a friendly guy on a motorbike asked where I was headed. For a moment, I felt utterly lost—my overnight stop was still a mystery to me. The first destination that popped into my head was Hanoi, and much to my surprise, he beckoned me to follow him.

We wound our way across a narrow bridge and through stunning scenery, but I soon realised we were heading towards the highway. The main road was not where I wanted to be but, fortunately, I soon stumbled upon another path veering inland. Without a second thought, I took a sharp left.

It felt like I had cycled straight into the heart of Vietnam. My route led me through quaint hamlets, beautifully nestled amid iconic Vietnamese landscapes. Each water stop turned into a gathering, with village kids pouring out, eager to ask my name and where I hailed from. When I replied “Nam Phi,” a chorus of gasps erupted, and I couldn’t quite determine if they were amazed because I came from a distant land, because of my European appearance, or simply for answering in Vietnamese. Whatever the reason, it felt heart-warming.

After battling a fever the day before, I wasn’t at my best, so I opted for a shorter ride. Upon reaching Dong Le, I discovered a handful of hotels and inviting bungalows priced at 280,000 dong. Despite the hotel rates being cheaper, I was drawn to the charm of the bungalows and made a beeline for them. It was the perfect place to rest and soak in the beauty of my surroundings.

 

29 July – Dong le – Horong Khe -60 km

The day started off less than ideal as I found myself tackling a steep road that wound its way up the mountain. I had hoped for a peaceful ride along a quiet secondary road, but reality had other plans. The path was not only narrow but also worn down by the heavy trucks diverting from a nearby construction site for a new highway. Instead of the serene ride I envisioned, I was navigating a hectic thoroughfare where two trucks could barely squeeze past one another, let alone make room for a cyclist.

With the roar of engines and the dust swirling around, I realised it was too risky to ride; I reluctantly dismounted and walked the bike to the top of the pass. Just when I began to question my resolve, I spotted the small village of Hoang peeking through the trees.

As I pulled in, I stumbled upon a hotel that felt like an oasis after my tumultuous ride. I settled in, took a moment to catch my breath, and began piecing together an alternative plan for the next leg of my journey.

 

30 July – Horong Khe – Vinh – 80 km

My transition from yesterday's busy road to the serene charm of a winding country lane was pure joy. It felt liberating to bike through expansive farmlands and quaint, remote villages. I quickly realised that I wasn’t exactly blending in; villagers greeted my presence with a mix of curiosity and caution. One kid, mid-skip, spotted me and bolted home—now that’s not something you see every day! I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

As I continued, I encountered stretches of the path that seemed to vanish altogether, forcing me to retrace my steps back to wider roads. Just when I thought I was making good progress towards Vinh, the wind decided to make its presence known, turning my ride into a challenge. It felt like I was wrestling the elements just to stay on course! Eventually, I opted to stop for the night in Vinh, compelled not only by the fierce wind but also by tales of an ancient citadel that once stood there.

I found a hotel, the White Hotel, slightly more luxurious than my usual digs, but its location was perfect—right where the map hinted at the remnants of the citadel. After a refreshing shower, I set off to explore the ruins. Yet, when I arrived, I was met with a surprising realisation: all that remained were two sturdy entrance gates and a moat, the rest now replaced by an imposing stadium. Ironically, that stadium appeared older than the ruins themselves! It was a surreal blend of history with modernity, leaving me both amused and a little wistful for what once was.

 

31 July – Vinh – Hai Hoa -122 km

I definitely wasn't in the best mood when I set off this morning. It all started when a hotel staff member accidentally collided with my bicycle, breaking the rear stand. They did make an effort to fix it but, honestly, it felt like a half-hearted attempt. Now, the stand is too short, and with the panniers on, the bike just topples over like a frustrated toddler.

To make matters worse, I spent over an hour on a wild goose chase trying to find an ATM that would dispense cash. Isn’t it funny how when you’re in a bad mood, it seems like the universe conspires against you?

Finally, I pedalled out of Vinh in search of those idyllic rural roads, but the one I stumbled upon was in terrible condition. It eventually spat me out onto the dreaded main road, where I was bombarded by honking trucks and the chaos of traffic. It took what felt like an eternity to find a way out of the madness.

When I finally reached Hai Hoa, I was met with a sea of hotels, which was a good thing as the oppressive heat was taking its toll. I decided to pull into the first one that looked inviting and promised easy access. Desperate for a break and some relief from the sun, I hoped that this stop would turn my day around. Fortunately, I secured a massive ground-floor room for only 300,000 dong.

 

1 August - Hai Hoa – Thanh Hoa - 43 km

Wow, time truly flies when you're having fun! I can hardly believe it's August already! This morning started with a clear destination in mind—Hoa Lu in Ninh Binh. However, just before reaching Thanh Hoa, my curiosity led me to make a short detour to the Voi Palace.

To this day, the exact origins of Voi Palace remain a mystery, though its location at the foot of the Voi Mountain—a rocky outcrop with a sacred vibe—adds to it’s intrigue. The mountain is adorned with vibrant flags and serene shrines, creating an atmosphere that's both mystical and inspiring.

Thanks to a recommendation from my social media buddy, Marco Peccatori I decided to swing by the Cycling Thanh Hoa bike shop to fit a much-needed new stand for my bicycle. The shop exceeded my expectations! So, I ended up treating my bike to a full service. With that sorted, I set off in search of a budget hotel to spend the night.

While there's undoubtedly plenty to explore in the area, I found myself indulging in the local cuisine instead! And honestly, who could blame me? Vegetarian restaurants abound, and the flavours are simply irresistible!

 

2 August - Thanh Hoa - Hoa Lư – 72 km

I was eager to get going, and at eight o'clock sharp I arrived at the bike shop. The bike looked as good as new, so I cycled back to the hotel to collect my panniers.

I was bitterly disappointed to discover that there were no rural roads leading to Loa Lu. Vietnam was developing far too quickly for my liking. With no other option, I followed the main road, which felt monotonous.

I only stopped at the Ba Trieu Temple, a significant historical site dedicated to the legendary heroine Lady Trieu, who bravely led a rebellion against foreign invaders in the third century. This sacred temple, with its ancient architecture, rich collection of artefacts, and deep-rooted traditions, symbolises Vietnamese patriotism.

The Ba Trieu Temple has a history that dates back to the sixth century, when King Ly Nam De built it to honour Lady Trieu. According to legend, during his reign from 542 to 548 CE, King Ly Nam De prayed at the temple for Lady Trieu’s protection before embarking on a military campaign against invaders at the southern border.

Vietnam’s history is filled with extraordinary women who have defied societal norms and left their mark. Throughout the country’s history, women have actively participated in wars and struggles for independence.

Currently, the literacy rate among Vietnamese women is 97%, which is equivalent to that of men. Vietnamese women also account for over 50% of the country’s workforce and are present in all sectors of the economy, from agricultural work to senior management positions. Many hold leadership roles in both the private and public sectors—examples include Vo Thi Anh Xuan, Vietnam’s vice-president since 2021, Nguyen Thi Phuong Thao, CEO of Vietjet Air, the country’s first private airline, and Pham Thi Kim Dung, CEO of Vingroup, one of the largest conglomerates in the country.

However, despite these advances, challenges persist, including wage disparities. On average, Vietnamese women earn 20% less than men for equivalent work. They also face serious issues such as domestic violence—one in three women in Vietnam has experienced physical or sexual violence from their partner.

 

3 August – Hoa Lu, Ninh Binh and surrounding area

They say there’s nothing quite like a change of scenery, and today I truly felt the magic of that phrase come alive. With a mix of scepticism and excitement, I decided to join a guided tour of the enchanting area around Ninh Binh.

My host was nothing short of amazing. He not only organised the tour but also treated me to a delightful breakfast that kicked off the day on a high note. A minivan whisked us away to our first stop: Hoa Lu, the ancient royal capital of Vietnam. I had visited this historic gem eight years ago, before it transformed into the tourist attraction it is today. Back then, the narrow alleys and weathered temples, adorned with moss-covered walls, whispered stories of the past. This time, however, it felt like a vibrant tapestry woven with the threads of history and modernisation.

Next, we headed to the awe-inspiring Bai Dinh Pagoda, the largest in Southeast Asia. The grandeur of its architecture and the serenity of its surroundings made it a worthwhile stop and the delicious lunch that followed was the perfect fuel for our next adventure.

After refuelling, we set out for Trang An, where we boarded a little boat for a two-hour paddle through breath-taking limestone cliffs. The scenery felt like something out of a dream, though I must admit, our backsides were protesting from the hard benches. But, the highlight was yet to come. We made our way to Dragon Mountain, where a steep path with 500 stone steps awaited us. The sun blazed at a sweltering 38°C, and we were soon drenched in sweat, but every drop was worth it. As we reached the top, the panoramic views left us speechless, a reward for our efforts that felt utterly surreal.

The best part? I shared this incredible experience with the most wonderful group of fellow travellers. Their laughter and stories made the day not just a tour but a day of shared stories. Today was a vivid reminder that stepping out of your routine can sometimes lead to the most rewarding adventures.

 

4 August – Ninh Binh – Hanoi – 113 km

Today’s weather was a real scorcher! My weather app insisted it was 38 degrees Celsius, but honestly, it felt more like 40! Despite the blazing sun, I forged ahead toward Hanoi, determined to make the most of my ride.

I managed to stick to the charming rural roads that wound their way through the countryside. As I rode, I felt blessed to be in this picturesque landscape where women squatted in the fields, diligently working the land, while in the quaint hamlets, ladies donned in conical hats gracefully balanced shoulder poles as they traded goods from door to door. It was a scene straight out of a postcard.

However, just as I neared Hanoi, reality hit hard—I had to navigate through the chaos of the main road. It felt like a high-stakes game of dodgeball, with motorbikes zipping past in every direction. By the time I reached my hotel in the vibrant Old Quarter, it was nearly five o'clock. I was drenched in sweat yet happy to be in Hanoi after so many years.

Later in the evening, I reunited with Cecilia, a fellow traveller I had met during our tour in Ninh Binh. She brought along two wonderful Vietnamese friends, and I was in for a treat! Cecilia graciously treated me to a delicious meal, and we meandered through the bustling streets of Hanoi's Old Quarter, soaking in the lively atmosphere as we made our way to the serene lake. The energy of the city was electric, and I couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to be back in Hanoi.

 

7 August – Hanoi

I spent two intense days navigating the maze of the Chinese visa application process but, in the end, I threw in the towel. The experience was so maddening that I ultimately made a spontaneous decision and booked a flight to Thailand instead! Honestly, the visa process hasn’t changed much since my previous attempts, but this time my patience just ran out. I set my sights on a new continent, ready to continue my cycling adventure from there.

My flight was locked in for the 11th, which gave me a few delightful days to soak in the vibrant energy of Hanoi—something I always looked forward to. The surrounding areas were brimming with wonders just waiting to be explored, and if I got my act together, I could even squeeze in a little excursion.

I decided to treat myself to a ticket for the Hop-On Hop-Off bus; it was only $10, after all! I hopped on the rooftop bus like an eager tourist on their first visit to the city. But as we rolled along, I quickly realised that the route wasn’t quite the grand adventure I had envisioned (what did I expect for just ten bucks?). So, at the Imperial Citadel of Thang Long—a stunning UNESCO World Heritage Site—I jumped off the bus and explored the route on foot. It seems I not only struggle with the patience required for visa applications, but also with waiting around for a bus! But that’s just part of the thrill of travel, right?

 

11 August – Hanoi, Vietnam – Bangkok, Thailand

Excitement filled the air as I meticulously packed my bicycle, ready for the adventure ahead. With my ticket in hand, I found myself wandering the vibrant streets of Hanoi—each corner bursting with life and history. The tantalising aroma of street food wafted through the air, challenging me to taste everything I could. After a few delightful days of exploration, I set my sights on Bangkok.

Upon arrival, the city welcomed me with its kaleidoscope of colours and sounds. I spent some time tying up loose ends and preparing for my next leg: a flight to Tbilisi, Georgia. The thought of exploring the breath-taking Caucasus Mountains and immersing myself in the rich culture filled me with anticipation. Soon, I would be off to Turkey, ready to discover new landscapes and stories. Adventure awaited, and I could hardly wait to dive in!